‘You know him, do you?’
‘Oh, sure. I know him all right.’
‘Is he straight?’
‘Louis Winnick? Straight as a die. He wouldn’t be old Roger Fergus’s consultant if he weren’t. Why? What’s on your mind?’
‘I was just wondering how he could have produced a report that differs so violently from your impression.’
‘Well, maybe I was wrong. But Jean asked me to come and tell you what I really thought.’
‘Have you checked your figures with the ones Winnick worked from?’
‘I tell you, I haven’t seen him. But as soon as I get back to Calgary—’ He stopped. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘Did you take the results of your survey down to Winnick yourself?’
‘Of course not. I was working up in the Kingdom all the time. We sent them to him in batches.’
‘How?’
‘We had them mailed from Keithley.’
‘Yes, but how did you get them down to Keithley?’
‘By the hoist. Max Trevedian was running supplies up to us and each week—’ He stopped then. ‘Of course. All they had to do was substitute the figures of some unsuccessful survey.’ He jumped to his feet and began pacing violently up and down the room. ‘No wonder Trevedian needed to be sure I kept my mouth shut.’ He stopped by the window and stood there, silent for a long time, drawing on his cigarette. ‘There’s something about the Kingdom,’ he said slowly. ‘It clings to the memory like a woman who wants to bear children and is looking for a man to father them. Last year, when I left, I had a feeling I should be coming back. There is a destiny about places. For each man there is a piece of territory that calls to him, that appeals to something deep inside him. I’ve travelled half the world. I know the northern territories and the Arctic regions of Canada like my own hand. But nothing ever called to me with the fatal insistence of the Kingdom. All this winter it has been in my mind, and I have been afraid of it.’ He turned slowly and faced me, eyes alight as though he had seen a vision. ‘I just wanted to get my trucks and go. But now . . .’ He half-shrugged his shoulders and came towards me. ‘Jean said you wanted to prove Stuart right.’ His voice was suddenly practical. ‘She said you’d got guts and you’d do it if you had someone in with you to handle the technical side.’
‘She’s right about the first part,’ I said. ‘But it means drilling.’
‘Sure it means drilling. But—’ He hesitated. ‘How much is a drilling operation worth to you?’
I laughed then. ‘All I’ve got is a few hundred dollars.’
‘I don’t mean that.’ He resumed his seat astride the chair facing me. ‘Look. If I find the capital and the equipment, will you split fifty-fifty? By that I mean fifty-fifty of all profits resulting from drilling operations in the Kingdom.’
‘Aren’t you anticipating a bit?’ I said. ‘Even supposing your survey did show an anticline, you admit yourself it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s oil there.’
He nodded slowly. ‘You’re too damn level-headed,’ he said, grinning. ‘All right. Let’s take it step by step. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Calgary. I’ll have a talk with Louis and look over the figures from which he prepared that report. Meantime, you get up to the Kingdom just as soon as they get the road through and the hoist working. You’ll find my trucks in one of the barns there. Somewhere in the instrument truck there are the results of the final surveys I did. In the worry of not being able to get my trucks out I forgot all about them. Bring them down with you and mail them direct to Louis. While you’re doing that I’ll go and see old Roger Fergus. He’s always been very good to me. I used to pilot for him quite a lot in the old days. He’s a pretty sick man now, but if I could get him interested he might put up the dough.’ He got to his feet, a gleam of excitement in his dark eyes. ‘Ever since I started in on this business I’ve dreamed of bringing in a well, of seeing the thing through right from the survey to the completion of drilling, knowing I had a stake in the result. If I can make Roger Fergus a proposition—’ He paused and lit another cigarette. ‘Would you split fifty-fifty for the chance of proving Stuart right?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘But—’
He held up his hand. ‘Leave it to me. Roger Fergus is an oil man and he’s a gambler. That’s why he put up the dough for the survey. I don’t think he believed in Stuart, but he’d lost a lot of money in his ventures and he was willing to take a chance.’
‘The only person you could do it with is Fergus,’ I said. ‘Otherwise we’d be up against his son’s company. Besides, he owns the mineral rights. Of course,’ I added, ‘if you could get one of the big companies interested—’
He laughed. ‘There’s oil in the Rocky Mountains! You try and sell them that one. They’ve been caught for a million dollars on one wildcat in the Rockies and it brought in a dry well. No, if we’re going to bring in a well, it will have to be without the help of the companies.’ He turned towards the door. ‘You leave it to me. So long as I have your assurance that you’re prepared to split fifty-fifty?’
‘Of course,’ I said.
‘Okay then. You let Louis have those figures just as soon as you can get them. His office is on Eighth Avenue. I forget the number—’
‘I’ve got his address,’ I said. ‘His office is right next door to Henry Fergus and the Larsen Company.’
He glanced at me quickly. ‘You don’t think—. Look, Bruce. Winnick is okay. There’s nothing crooked about him. That I’m certain of. I’ll talk to him and then I’ll see the old man. I’ll wire you as soon as I’ve any news.’
‘And what about your trucks?’
‘Oh, to hell with the trucks,’ he grinned. ‘Anyway, we’ll maybe need them to check on the anticline.’ He took hold of the handle of the door. ‘I’ll leave you now. Jean said you were pretty tired. It’s the altitude. You’ll soon get used to it. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ I said. ‘And thanks for your help.’
He smiled. ‘Time enough to thank me when we bring in a well.’
The door closed and I was alone again. I lit another cigarette and lay back on the bed. The thing seemed suddenly to have moved beyond me. I didn’t feel I had the energy to cope with it.
During the next few days I saw quite a lot of Jean Lucas. She found me an old pair of skis and with the dog we trekked as far as the timber and across the lake to a little torrent where trout could be seen swimming in the dark pool among the rocks. She was a queer, quiet girl. She never talked for the sake of talking, only when she had something factual to say. She seemed a little afraid of words and mostly we trekked in silence. When we did talk she always kept the conversation away from herself. I found these expeditions very exhausting physically, but I didn’t tell her that because I enjoyed them. And they had one advantage, they made me sleep better than I had done in years.
Meantime, Creasy and his construction gang broke through the fall where the avalanche had carried the old road away and the talk after the evening meal was all of opening up the camp at the head of the creek and getting the hoist working.
When I got in on the Saturday Mac handed me a slip of paper. ‘Telegram for ye,’ he said. It was from Bladen.
CONVINCED FIGURES NOT MINE. SEND WINNICK THOSE FROM KINGDOM SOONEST POSSIBLE. ROGER FERGUS DIED TWO DAYS AGO. LEAVING FOR PEACE RIVER. SIGNED—BLADEN.
I looked across at the old man. ‘How did this come?’ I asked.
‘The telephone line has been repaired,’ he said. ‘They phoned it through to me from Keithley.’
I thanked him and went up to my room. So Roger Fergus was dead and that was that. I was sorry. There’d been something about him, a touch of the pioneer, and he had been my grandfather’s friend. And then I remembered how he’d talked of our meeting again soon and I shivered.
When Creasy got in that night he announced that they were through to the camp. ‘We’re wondering about the hoist,’ he said to James McClellan.
‘You don’t have to,’ McClella
n answered. ‘It’ll work all right—I built it to last.’
‘Aye, ye did that,’ his father said and there was a sneer in the old man’s voice.
Hot, sudden anger flared in the younger man’s eyes. ‘Lucky I did,’ he said. ‘Ain’t anything more useless than a hoist that don’t work, I guess; unless it’s a gold mine that’s covered by a hundred feet of slide—or the mineral rights in a country that ain’t got any oil.’
Father and son glared at each other sullenly. Then the older man shrugged his shoulders. ‘Aye, ye may be right, Jamie.’
The son thrust his chair back and got to his feet. ‘You’ll get your money back,’ he said sullenly.
When I went down to see Jean that evening it was raining hard and blowing half a gale from the west. Miss Sarah Garret opened the door to me. ‘Come in, Mr Wetheral, come in.’ She shut the door. ‘My sister and I were so sorry to hear about the death of Roger Fergus.’
I stared at her. ‘How did you know he was dead?’
‘But you received a telegram from Boy today saying so.’
I wondered whether Trevedian, too, knew the contents of that wire yet and if so what he was going to do about it. I wished now I had told Bladen to write.
‘. . . such a distinguished-looking man. He came here several times. That was when he was interested in Mr Campbell’s oil company. You’re very like Mr Campbell, you know.’ She cocked a bird-like glance at me. ‘Not in appearance, of course. But in—in some indefinable way. Things always happened in Come Lucky when Mr Campbell was around. And I do like things happening, don’t you?’ She smiled at me and her eyes twinkled. ‘So sensible of you to get Boy to do the organising side of your venture.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Why?’ She tapped me with her fingers. ‘Go on with you. Think I don’t know why? I was young once, you know, and I understand only too well how lonely it can be for a girl up here in Come Lucky,’
‘But—’ I didn’t know what to say as she stood there twinkling at me. ‘I didn’t send Boy to Calgary,’ I said.
‘Of course not. You just let his enthusiasm run away with him.’ She gave a little tinkling laugh and then turned quickly at the sound of footsteps. ‘Ah, here she is,’ she said as Jean entered the room.
‘I gather you know about the wire I got from Boy,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Miss McClellan was here two hours ago with the details of it. The news will be all over Come Lucky by now.’ She took me through into her own room. ‘You look tired,’ she said.
‘I feel it,’ I answered. ‘Fergus’s death—’ I hesitated. I think it was only then that the full implication of it dawned on me. I suddenly found myself laughing. It was so damned ironical.
‘Please,’ she cried. She had hold of my arm and was shaking me. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, controlling myself. ‘Only that Henry Fergus will now inherit the mineral rights of the Kingdom.’
She turned and stared at the fire. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ She reached for my arm. ‘But it’ll work out. You see.’ Her eyes were suddenly bright. ‘You’ve got a good partner in Boy. He’ll get the backing you need.’
She had spoken with unusual warmth. ‘Are you in love with him?’ I asked.
She stared at me in sudden shocked surprise and then turned away. ‘We’ll talk about the Kingdom, not me if you don’t mind,’ she said in a voice that trembled slightly. She sat down slowly by the fire and stared for a moment into the flames, lost in her own thoughts.
‘Why has Boy gone to Peace River, do you know?’ I asked her.
She started slightly. ‘Has he? I didn’t know.’ Her voice was flat. She turned her head and looked at me. ‘He was working there during the winter.’
For some reason she had withdrawn into herself. I left shortly after that and returned to the hotel. I was tired anyway. The rain streamed down, steel rods against the lamplit windows of the bar, drilling holes in the greying snow. Jean had lent me several books; rare things in Come Lucky—the hotel only had American magazines and a few glossy paper backs with lurid jackets. I planned to laze and read myself quietly to sleep. As I was starting upstairs Pauline came out of the kitchen. ‘Going to bed already, Bruce?’
‘Can you suggest anything better for me to do in Come Lucky?’ I asked her.
She smiled a trifle uncertainly. ‘I am sorry,’ she murmured. ‘It is very dull here.’ She hesitated. ‘And I am afraid we have not been very ’ospitable.’ And then quickly, as though she wanted to say it before she forgot. ‘Jimmy is going up to the dam tomorrow.’
‘Do you mean up to the top, to the Kingdom?’ I asked.
She nodded.
‘When?’
‘They leave tomorrow after breakfast—he is going with Ben.’
‘Why do you tell me this?’
‘He ask me to tell you.’
‘Why?’
She hesitated. ‘Per’aps he think that if you see the dam for yourself you will understand what it means to him and to the others.’ She leaned forward and touched my arm. ‘You will go with him, won’t you, Bruce? He wants so badly for you to understand why it is we do not want this scheme to fall through. If you could see the hoist that he built . . .’ She stopped awkwardly. ‘He is not unfriendly really, you know. It is only that he is worried. The farm is not doing well and this hotel—’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The visitors are not enough to keep a barn like this running.’
‘Tell him I’d like to come with him, provided he’ll take me to the top if the hoist is working.’
‘Yes, I will tell him that.’ She flashed me a smile. ‘Goodnight, Bruce.’
‘Goodnight, Pauline.’
I went up to my room, suddenly too excited to think of reading. At last I was going to get a glimpse of the Kingdom.
I awoke to find daylight creeping into the room. The wind still howled and a sheet of corrugated iron clanked dismally. But the rain had ceased. The clouds had lifted, ragged wisps sailing above cold, white peaks. Footsteps sounded on the bare boards below and a door banged. Then silence again; silence except for the relentless sound of the wind and the gurgle of water seeking its natural level, starting on its long journey to the Pacific.
I was called at seven. The old Chinaman shuffled across the room to the wash basin with a steaming jug of water. ‘You sleep well, mister?’ His wrinkled face smiled at me disinterestedly as he gave me the same greeting he had given me every morning I had been there. ‘Snow all gone. Plenty water. Plenty mud. You get to the dam okay today.’
By the time I had finished breakfast James McClellan was waiting for me. He took me down to the bunkhouse through a sea of mud. There was a truck there and Max Trevedian was loading drums of diesel fuel into the back of it.
‘All set?’ I turned to find Peter Trevedian slithering down through the mud towards us. He wore an old flying jacket, the fur collar turned up, and a shaggy, bearskin cap.
‘Just about,’ McClellan said.
Max Trevedian paused with one of the drums on his shoulders. ‘You are going to Campbell’s Kingdom today.’ He had a foolish expectant look on his face, and his eyes were excited.
‘We’re going to the dam,’ his brother replied, glancing at me.
‘The dam—the Kingdom, same thing,’ Max growled. ‘We go together, huh?’
‘No.’
‘But—’ His thick, loose lips trembled. I thought how like the lips of a horse they were. ‘But I must go up. You tell me he do not rest. You tell me—’
‘Shut up!’ His brother’s voice was violent and the poor fool cringed away from him. ‘Get to work and finish loading the truck.’
Max hesitated, half turning. But then he reached out a long arm and gripped his brother’s elbow. ‘Maybe the old devil still alive, eh? Maybe if we—’ His brother struck him across the mouth then and seized him by his jacket and shook him. ‘Will you shut up,’ he shouted. And then as Max gaped at him, a lost, bewildered expression on his ugly features, Trevedian
put his arm affectionately round his shoulders and drew him aside out of earshot. He talked to him for a moment and then Max nodded. ‘Ja, ja. I do that.’ He stumbled back to the truck, mumbling to himself, picked up a drum and hurled it into the back.
‘Well, what do you want here, Wetheral?’ I turned to find Peter Trevedian coming towards me.
‘McClellan offered to take me up to have a look at the dam,’ I said.
‘He did, did he?’ He called to McClellan and took him on one side. ‘It can’t do any harm,’ I heard McClellan say. They were both looking at me as they talked. Finally Trevedian said in a voice that was loud enough for me to hear: ‘Well, he’s not coming up in one of my trucks. If he wants to go up there, he can find his own damn way up.’ McClellan said something, but Trevedian turned with a shrug and climbed into the cab of the truck.
McClellan hesitated, glancing at me. Then he came over. ‘I’m sorry, Wetheral,’ he said. ‘Trevedian says there isn’t room for all of us. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave you behind. There’s a lot of fuel to take up, you see,’ he added lamely.
‘You mean he refuses to let me go up?’
‘That’s about it,’ I guess.
‘And you take your orders from him?’
He glanced at me quickly, a hard, angry look in his eyes. Then he turned away without another word, his shoulders hunched. He and Creasy climbed into the cab. The engine roared and I stood there watching the truck as it slithered through the mud to the lake-shore road and turned up towards Thunder Creek. My eyes lifted to the peaks of Solomon’s Judgment, half-veiled in twin caps of cloud. The Kingdom seemed as far away as ever. As I turned angrily away I saw Max standing just where his brother had left him, his long arms hanging loose, his eyes watching the truck. His mouth was open and there was a queer air of suppressed excitement about him. Suddenly he turned with the quickness of a bear and went up into the shacks of Come Lucky at a shambling trot.
I went slowly back to the hotel. Mac was in the bar when I entered. ‘Are ye not going up to the hoist wi’ Jamie?’
‘Trevedian refused to take me,’ I said.
Campbell's Kingdom Page 11
